Burnt
by McMahon-Levesque
Summary: "Clever girl. You play with fire because you want to be burnt."
1. Chapter 1

"So please explain to me Miss McMahon, what exactly did you see that night?" asked the private investigator for the third time. Stephanie violently slammed her hands against the steel office table yelling with tears brimming her eyes, "I already told you what I saw! Damn it, don't you listen!?" The investigator bowed his head in disappointment chuckling as if what she had said involved humor.

Stephanie knew what she had saw that night. It was forever indebted into her mind, therefore she'd be able to describe the events that occurred fluently...no flaws in the summary she had repeated more than once to the asshole chuckling as if he was trying to call her bluff. For a moment, she guessed that's what they did for a living, called bullshit when they saw it, but this wasn't just another cover up...she saw what no one else had which made her a witness to the havoc.

"What's so funny?" Stephanie snapped rather demanding than asking.

The investigator eagerly responded with a smirk etched into his features, "Well, Stephanie, right? Well, sweet cheeks, what you're telling me is that amongst the crowd of people forming a line outside of Frank O'Niel's strip club, Dark Angels, only you saw what transpired?" Stephanie's eyed glazed over in confusion, what was this man trying to get at.

She stared coldly at him for a few brief moments before finally responding, "Maybe if you'd paid attention to the last three times I told you, then yes! Damn it yes!" The man nodded his approval, "Okay, would you please describe the events to me one more time. I'm not quite following, and please call me Derek. Derek Matthews." Stephanie rolled her eyes in annoyance. She exhaled before finally beginning to repeat the story for the fourth time that night, "It's just like I said before, I was walking out of the strip club because I had just finished my night shift..."

 _ **Flashback**_

 _Stephanie flung her hair back for emphasis, working on the pole behind her, wrapping her never ending legs around the metal climbing up and landing into a split position, crawling forward sticking her ass out for a better reaction. That's when she saw him, yes she had seen him on numerous occasions, but why hadn't he'd been sitting around for the other dances? She swore she'd seen him all night eying her up and down._

 _Once the song had come to an abrupt end she began collecting the couple of dollar bills lying flat against the small runway. Immediately, she made her way backstage handing her money to the manager in charge for the night, Danny Sheridan. Danny seemed to be in his late 20's early 30's, however that didn't disguise the beer belly that had continued to grow due to the excess of alcohol he consumed on a daily basis, the scruffy champagne locks that lie messily beneath his ears, and the matching beard that he stroked like the Godfather or something. He was a poor excuse of a man, downed his problems with a bottle of whiskey, the stash of cocaine that he had kept 'well hidden' or so he assumed he had, and the amount of women that he had deliberately taken advantage of._

" _You looked good out there Stephy. Maybe you'd like to come back to my room and show me just how flexible you really are?" Remarked Danny licking at his lips boring holes right through the beauty before him._

 _Stephanie huffed in disgust, turning on her heels raising her neatly manicured middle finger, non-verbally expressing her answer._

 _Stephanie turned the corner reaching the end of the hallway finding her dressing room in an instant. She flung the door open carelessly, shutting it behind her. Breathing out in relief, she sat in front of her boudoir, combing out the tangles in her brown tresses. Once finished grooming her locks, she began adjusting the straps of her black laced bra that exposed the mounds of her breasts. She stood up briefly readjusting the matching black laced thong that had rode up far more than she'd intended it to._

 _Patricia Stratigias scurried through the halls in search of Stephanie McMahon's dressing room. She glanced through the doors in search of her name. Coming to the end of the hall she noticed the leggy brunette's door. Instantly her hand flew to the handle opening it without caution. Stephanie's head snapped towards the direction of the door noticing the blonde bombshell, better known as Trish Stratus come into her visual, "Um, I suppose it's urgent since you didn't knock?" Stephanie remarked casually furrowing her eyebrows together. Trish giggled halfheartedly, " Yeah, sorry about that, but you've got a client down at curtain one. He asked for you specifically." Trish hurriedly responded exiting the room before Stephanie couldn't refuse the offer, more like the demand. Sighing, she ran her hand through her brown tresses. She composed herself before walking down the corridor which led to the curtain she'd been directed to. Her hand connected with the crimson red curtain, yanking it back harshly._

 _There he was the man who had been boring holes right through for maybe about a week. Her blue eyes immediately connected with the similar ones. He had removed the dark shades adorning his face._

" _My oh my you really are beautiful."_

 _Stephanie stood still in shock biting back any sentence she dared to make audible. Instead she swallowed the thickness in her throat praying that he wasn't some sick perv._

" _Relax baby, I'm not gonna hurt you. I come in peace."_

 _Baby, what the hell was that? She wasn't his baby, nor anyone else._

" _What the hell do you want?" Stephanie snapped, crossing her forearms firmly against her chest, crushing her breasts._

 _He smirked then began to laugh, "Apparently Miss McMahon's got an attitude? Forgive me for being rude love, but I'm Chris Irvine, and I want you grinding on my lap, giving me what I so rightfully paid for." Stephanie stood still, rooted to the ground refusing to move. Involuntarily, she stepped forward removing the robe that clung to her forearms lazily. The robe fell to the ground, and she strode her way over to her creepy client, Chris. He grinned wickedly patting his lap awaiting for her ass to be grinded against his already growing erection. Stephanie plopped down roughly eliciting a sharp groan from the man she sat atop of. She was disgusted by what she had sat above, this man was about as hard as she had felt any man she had ever given a lap dance, but in a sense it turned her on. His hands connected with her hips and he roughly shoved her back into him causing her to gasp at his vicious activities. Instinctively, she began to sway her hips against his groin. She briefly stood straddling his lap, bucking her hips forward eliciting more groins from the blonde below her._

 _Getting a bit antsy Chris begin to place kisses against the mounds of her breasts. Stephanie seductively whispered into his ear after a painstakingly 10 minutes, "Time's up lover boy. Now if you want a good fuck, I suggest you find Stacy." Stephanie hastily removed herself from the man's presence receiving a death glare in response to her teasing act. For good measures she bent over strutting her ass and clasping onto the silk material that had been carelessly thrown to the ground as she had entered. She remarked chuckling at the look on his face, "Have a nice night,_ _ **baby**_ _." Stephanie winked at the man, finally exiting the small cubicle. She sped-walk down the hallway making her way to her dressing room for the final time of the night.._

 **Present**

"Miss McMahon we've gone over this, I know we have, but my question is, what in the hell does giving this guy a lap dance have to do with any of this?" a smile breaking over the bastard's face as he asked the question coolly.

Stephanie glared at him, shaking her head in disbelief. This man really had the tendency to get under her skin, but she had to keep it cool the last thing she'd want was this asshole thinking she was apart of some grand scheme; which was absolutely inaccurate by the way, she deemed an innocent throughout the entire situation. Stephanie hadn't been apart of any plot to go up against Frank O'Neil 's golden empire. She'd be slaughtered and dropped from the face of the earth for her deceit and betrayal. He stated that quite firmly, reiterating the phrase in her mind like a broken record player, 'You dare go up against me, and I promise you. You won't live to see tomorrow.' Believe it or not it, but his firm tone had been enough to set her astray from ever trying anything funny, not that she had intended to anyways.

"Are you actually gonna let me finish this time, or are you going to keep rudely interrupting?" Stephanie demanded, with a cold stare to be added.

"You know what Miss McMahon, I believe we have all of our respective evidence. Mr. Briggs will escort you out." he remarked with a sadistic smile etched into his features.

Stephanie huffed out a breath disbelievingly, "No thanks. I'm a big girl I think I can find my way out of this shit place."

Not only did he insult her by insinuating that she needed to be escorted out of the building as if she was some sort of child, but she'd seen the way he'd been eying her up and down like she was some piece of meat. Regardless of the fact that she was a part time stripper, she'd never willingly fuck some random loser. Outside of the grinding and dancing aura of the business she'd worked as a client for Frank's expanding drug empire. Along with her, a variety of carefully hand selected people worked as well; some as out of town businessmen/women, others who dealt with in-town transactions which consisted of herself, Paul, Dave, and Stacy, others who accounted for the money and excessive amount of drugs, others who smuggled across the bordered states or countries, etc.

Stephanie sighed once she exited the Greenwich county jail, "Assholes." she mumbled under her breath as she shuffled through the pockets of her trench coat in search of her cigarette box and lighter. She fumbled with the contents, removing the black gloves adorning her small hands. She swiftly placed the cigarette between her lips, lighting the bud immediately, disregarding the dirty looks she received from pedestrians walking up the shitted on by various bird cement stairs. She just hoped that Paul would be here soon, she hated looking like one of those prostitutes hoping that someone would show up at their corner to fuck them senseless. Fortunately for her after her mind processed what she'd been hoping for, she recognized the 2014 red Mercedes-Benz SLS.


	2. Chapter 2

"Thank god." she muttered, discarding the cigarette in a nearby astray. She entered the vehicle, shutting the door. Revelling in the warmth of the atmosphere.

"What happened?" her calm state of mind was interrupted by Paul.

"I didn't get caught. He doesn't know shit about the drugs. Just that there was an exchange. No one's name was mentioned. Not Stacy. Not Dave. Not you. Not Frank. No one." Okay so it was truth, but someone's name was mentioned, Chris.

Paul bore holes through her almost as if he had been trying to convince himself she was telling the truth. Stephanie's blue orbs met his honey ones, curious as to why they hadn't drove off yet.

"For fuck sakes Paul I didn't say shit!" was her sudden outburst. It pained her to know that her co-worker in which she had gotten very cozy with at his apartment didn't believe her. Tears brimmed her eyes as she looked forward avoiding the look of sincerity that shone across his face when he knew he'd been wrong.

"Steph ba-" was his response before Stephanie interrupted, the hurt evident in her tone, "Can we just go please?"

Paul nodded his head briefly. Major setback.

Once they had arrived at Paul's apartment, Stephanie was eager to get out and go inside. Before the vehicle had even come to a halt she flung the door open, scurrying up a set of stairs. Paul sighed in frustration watching as she fumbled with the key in her hands. She was trembling no doubt she'd been holding back the onslaught of tears that were yet to come. Alas, to no avail the door flung open and her small form disappeared into the apartment. It was small but contained all basic necessities; 2 bedrooms, 1 bath, a kitchen, and a living area. That's when he heard the door slam shut and immediately knew she'd gone to the spare room.

Initially, she'd slept in there before the two began to get more comfortable within the presence of one another, hence the reason they'd shared a bed together now. Paul removed his coat shutting the front door behind him. Walking the short distance towards the spare room he tried the doorknob discovering she'd locked it. Exhaling deeply he knocked, one...two..three...times. "Steph, baby?"

No response. He felt like the biggest asshole in the world. Accusing her of something he hadn't even bothered to investigate further. He knew he should've believed her, but there was just a glint in her eyes that convinced him otherwise. Regardless, of that glint he'd supposedly seen or was certain he'd seen he should've believed her. Her sobs and hiccuping shook him she'd never been so distraught before. Making his way to the other room he rifled through a drawer, finding a key in the process. He walked once again the short distance to the room being occupied by a distressed Stephanie. Inserting the key slowly he turned the knob, and what he saw made him feel like a real bastard. She was curled up in a ball on the plush mattress clinging to the sheets as if it were some sort of safe haven.

He was at her side the minute he'd seen the hurt he'd caused. Stephanie responded by curling up to Paul, nuzzling her face in his shirt, clinging onto it as a replacement for the sheet, trying to obtain some shred of normality, but her sobs strangled her usually calm tone. Suddenly she couldn't breathe and she felt as if a car door had slammed shut on her lungs. Anxiety attack, this had only occurred when she had been overwhelmed with a variety of things and right now was one of those things.

"Stephanie, baby. I need you to relax. Okay? Breathe in and out babe." Paul soothed her, rubbing feather-like strokes up and down her back. She obliged breathing in slowly. With time her sobs faded into the air, and she had calmed down considerably. There were very rare occasions where Stephanie had broken down, but only twice had she had an anxiety attack. Stephanie wasn't one to break down over spilled milk, but Paul had a sense that this ran deeper than he'd known so far. The whole him not believing her bullshit hadn't been enough to throw her over the edge. Paul was determined to find out, and he had already screwed up once and he dreaded seeing her hurt because of him or rather what had happened beforehand.

"Steph, talk to me. What happened?" Paul asked while holding her closely to his chest, stroking her brown messy locks. Stephanie's breathing had evened out and all that remained were occasional hiccups and her deep breaths.

"He was there again..." Stephanie murmured barely audible. Paul's face scrunched up in confusion. He understood what Stephanie did part time, but sure as hell didn't approve of it. "Steph, who?" Paul hushed against her ear.

"He's been watching me for the past week. It was some guy named Chris. I think his last name was Ivern or Irvine." Stephanie stuttered bowing her head in disappointment she didn't want to tell him the rest. Paul went livid as he heard that name; 10 years that bastard had gotten away with unpaid debts and had the audacity to force fear into the woman he'd fallen head over heels for. "Steph, you stay the hell away from him. Do you understand me?" Stephanie's head lifted up from Paul's shoulder staring at him with mock shock. He knew him, but how?

"You know him?" she questioned as she broke their gazes.

Paul could sense the tension, "Stephanie, not now. Okay? It's not something that you need to be handling."

Stephanie let out an exasperated gasp, "Are you fucking kidding me?! I want to know who this guy is because he was putting his damn hands all over me like he sure as hell knew me. Do you know what that feels like, Paul!? No you fucking don't!" Stephanie stood ready to waltz out of the room, but Paul grasped her arm roughly, pushing her up against his chest as he stood. "Don't do this. Not right now. I'm doing this for your safety...I'll handle it." he spoke through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth. Stephanie huffed out a breath of air disbelievingly. Was he being serious right now?

"Paul Michael Levesque, let go of me right now or I swear-"

She was interrupted, "You'll what Steph call the cops?! Huh?! Go a-fucking-head because if I go down so do the rest of us princess!" his tone was laced with anger and anger alone.

"Let me go!" Stephanie shrieked while shoving at his chest, punching and slapping. It wasn't enough to deter how he'd now shoved her against the nearest wall.

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! God, I fucking hate you!" Stephanie screamed while her attempts became weaker as time passed. Paul gazed into her eyes watching as tears soon brimmed them. Why had this woman been so difficult to deal with at moments like these. Watching on as her movements came to a halt, he cupped one cheek tenderly. Initially, she shied away from him, causing him to cup both cheeks in his hands forcing her to face him. Stephanie stubbornly avoided eye contact with him, glancing in another direction purposefully. Paul sighed softly, mustering up enough courage to get the next words out, "Stephanie, baby, look at me please."

Stephanie was adamant not to meet his gaze because she was for certain she'd be putty in his hands once she made eye contact. He just had a hold on her, a good one at that. She connected with him on so many levels. They'd known each other for well over 6 years, developing an unbreakable friendship; sharing the occasional kiss or make out session, which eventually led to getting to know one another on a more intimate level both body and soul. She'd never imagined that a man could have such a tug on her heart. Paul cleared his throat, almost demanding that she look at him. Stephanie bit on her bottom lip, her eyes shutting tightly together, only to reopen them meeting his hazel orbs that had immediately lured her in, and she couldn't help but gaze into them longingly, just as she had previously predicted.

He tucked his finger beneath her chin, resting his forehead against hers, "Steph, just please trust me on this one, okay? I understand that there's probably a ton of questions floating around in your head as to why he's dangerous, but he is, and that's all I'm ready to tell you right now. It's a story for another time. Just..." he trailed, racking his brain for a simpler way to justify his reasoning, "I don't want you getting hurt-" Stephanie interrupted in a more calmly manner this time, "Paul, I know, but babe I can handle myself. I mean... I'm a grown woman. I think I'm old enough to grasp the severity of a situation."

Paul nodded his head in an understanding manner, "Steph, please don't fight me on this. I know something you don't. Just take my word for it."

Stephanie could tell he was frustrated. The look on his face said it all; eyes shut tightly, now him being the one unable to look at her, his forehead creased, and his big hand occasionally rubbing his face wearily. She knew she was a difficult person, and had the stubborn personality to prove for it, but he didn't have to belittle her by insinuating she didn't have the ability to stand up for herself. Sure she was a little maniacal and at times vindictive, and did things that were a bit drastic, but she knew her limits. She knew when enough was enough, and all she could do now was raise the white flag.

Stephanie sighed in defeat, restraining from the urge to bombard him with questions, "Okay." was her simple response. Almost instantly Paul felt cold as she slipped away from him, making her way towards the bedroom they shared.

Paul, stayed back a short while, calming himself down. Earlier, he'd felt he'd been a little too rough with her. Sure, every now and then he'd lost his cool, but never to the point where he'd actually grabbed Stephanie. Lord, knows what had driven that woman mad to continually insist on staying with him, he couldn't help but think that he didn't deserve her. He had done exactly what he'd repeatedly told himself not to do and that was lay a hand on a woman just as his father had done to his mother for as long as he could remember during his childhood. He cherished his mother, she was a woman of her word and often told him he'd never be his father. After all those long nights of hiding, hearing her cry and scream helplessly was enough for him to step up and mature.

Paul, exhaled deeply, licking his lips anxiously. As he entered the room he gazed at Stephanie as she undressed, tossing the blouse that hugged her torso, accentuating her breasts, to the floor carelessly. Her arms reached behind her back searching for the clasp of her bra. Paul chuckled lowly, as she mumbled a few curse words, unable to unfasten her lace prison. He strode towards her quietly, reaching the clasp and unhooking it himself. Stephanie jumped at first, soon becoming familiar with his touch. She shimmied her arms out of the straps, her bra being dropped effortlessly to the floor. Paul's arms soon encircled her waist, relishing in the way she leant into him. His lips soon found their way to the column of her throat, enjoying the way her head leant to the side, granting him further access. He gently kissed the mark he had given her the previous night before, his lips making a scorching trail with its movements. Stephanie bit her lip temptingly, tonight would be a rather enjoyable one to say the least.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: It's been a while since this one's been updated. Btw, I gave Trips and Stephy a break. Enjoy some Stacy and Dave. R/R

* * *

Stacy paced the floor anxiously awaiting the arrival of Dave.

"Where the fuck are you Batista?" she mumbled to herself as she began to chew on her nails nervously. Stacy was a tall slinky blonde with a physique she had luckily been blessed with. Thank god for great genetics. Stacy was a rather mysterious girl. She'd dropped out of high school and was a teenage run away. Her life was the perfect example of shitty during her teen years, however it wasn't always bad. For instance, her and Stephanie had actually been pretty tight during high school. They were the best of friends, and it just happened to be sheer luck that they both wound up in the same business together; part-time strippers and business associates for a marvelous drug empire.

She'd never imagined that's the way her life would end up. Stephanie had at least graduated, but what good did that do for her? She was still a stripper working in a highly dangerous occupation-everyday her life was at risk regardless of the bodyguards she was able to pay off now.

Lord knows Stacy wasn't even able to afford a pair of decent shoes when she had ran away from her 'oh so loving parents'. Fuck. They were horrible; a slut for a mother who snorted coke 'til she was gone and an abusive, drunken, sick son of a bitch for a father. Hell, running away might've been the greatest decision she'd made in her life. Although, it didn't heal that aching pain she often got in her chest at the simple fact that her parents hadn't even shown the slightest ounce of concern for her; nothing. No search parties for their precious baby girl, no grieving letters begging for her to return, nothing.

Her eyes glossed over with tears when the abrupt noise of gravel kicking up and an engine coming to a halt directly behind her. She wiped the the few tears that spilled down her cheek, composing herself in order to appear casual. The last thing she needed was for fucking Batista telling all the guys that this tough slinky blonde was crying over absentee parents. She breathed in deeply her face structure going from pained and confused to hard as nails in an instant.

"Where the fuck have you been Dave?"

Dave sighed incredulously, he was here for five fucking seconds and already she was bitching at him, "Traffic." was his simple response which only further infuriated Stacy.

"You know you could have sent out a fucking text. That's what phones are for."

"My phone died."

Okay, what the fuck, "Jesus, David! Get a fucking car charger!" She bursted.

"Well, shit sorry Stace. I'll make sure to drop by Wal-mart when I have some free time on my fucking hands. Which is," He checked his watch, "never."

Okay, that was stupid checking his damn watch like it had his fucking schedule written all over it. "Oh, come off it." She face palmed on that one, oh nice fucking response Stace, just fucking genius.

Dave rose his hands in surrender, "Can we just get this over with? I've got something to-uh-to do later on. Alright?"

Stacy huffed in disgust, "Oh please, fucking some faceless whore can wait! Frank needs that fucking paper by tomorrow morning-as soon as I walk into the fucking building!"

Dave snickered at her comment, "Well, Stace, that's more than you can say for yourself isn't it? I mean isn't that what other men think? Just some faceless stripper?"

Low blow. He knew it, but for Christ sakes he'd already had a shitty night, and her added bitching and moaning wasn't doing much to ease his raging headache. Couldn't he get a fucking break for once? Whether it was her, Stephanie, Paul, or even Frank they were busting his balls being reprimanding of him. All he wanted was one simple fuck; one to release his frustrations. All the while, bitching in his own mind he'd missed the sudden movement of her hand rearing back to lay a slap right in to his left cheek. The forcefulness was almost enough to knock him off his balance, almost. His head remained bowed, his tongue flicking around for any sign of blood. He'd be surprised if she didn't pack a damn punch.

Blue eyes bore holes through the man before her. How fucking dare he? Did he think she was fucking proud of being a damn stripper? Hell no, it disgusted her to no end and if given the option she'd quit as soon as she could. Just who the hell did he think he was? He thought he could run over her because she was a stripper. That-that he could just take low blows because she wouldn't do anything about it? Wrong...fucking wrong.

His lips smashed against hers and all she did was stand shocked at the sudden sensation fluttering in the pit of her stomach. She returned the kiss eagerly his tongue sweeping over hers anxiously. This was wrong, but why did it feel so damn right. No this wasn't right. Stacy's arms connected with his chest, shoving him off of her abruptly breaking their heated kiss.

"Dave?! What the fuck?!"

The look of confusion marred his features as he eyed her quizzically Was she kidding right now? If he wasn't mistakened just a few moments ago she'd been eagerly responding to him in kind. "Just take the fucking papers Stace." He handed her the stack wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. He made a beeline for his car once again being stopped by the blonde before him. Stacy's hands were once again against his chest only this time in a much more soothing manner Dave ran a hand over his forehead wearily, for fucks sakes he just wanted to leave. The least she could do was let him leave with an ounce of dignity.

"Are we gonna talk about what just happened? I mean you just-you just-just kissed me," she hushed the last words out, her fingers absently trailing over her bottom lip, "I mean it meant nothing right? It was just an in the moment thing with me slapping you. We were just heated right?" She pleaded with her eyes although if the look he was giving her was any indication her very well meant to kiss her.

"Yeah, just a mistake Stace. Besides, I've got some faceless whore to meet in an hour. Don't want to be late."

She nodded her head yes, but wanted to scream no. Why?


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Here's the next installment. R/R

* * *

"Fuck. Oh fuck." Stephanie managed to mumble out. Her nails scored his back anxiously as their pace intensified. She knew it was to be an intense session, but not to the point where she literally begged for release. This was their second time at it. He purposefully continued his thrusting as she rode the out the waves of her previous orgasm. God knows how, but somehow he just knew what she wanted before she could even comprehend what it was she wanted herself.

"Fuck." He all but growled into her ear as he dropped his face to her shoulder gently biting down on it. He was close as was she. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd have her begging for release in just a few short moments. And it was moments like these where he questioned her sanity, how could such a beautiful woman choose a man like him? He was a wreck, but when he was with her he felt it... she was it for him. She'd be the death of him, and unbeknownst to her he'd be lost without her. She was the spark of light at the end of his never-ending dark tunnel. He loved her, whether she knew it or not, he loved her with every ounce of his being.

He didn't miss the pleasure filled scream that tore through the heavy panting atmosphere. God, if she wasn't the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Even at moment like this he was observant of what she did and didn't like. The way her eyes squeezed shut when he hit the right spot, how her hair fanned out across the pillows, when she bit into her bottom lip temptingly, the way her finger nails bit into his shoulder blades, and when he was to come she stared into his eyes granting him permission to finish.

Just as Paul had processed that thought, he felt her hand cup both cheeks nodding her head, encouraging him to finish.

"Come for me baby." Her whispered encouragement was all he needed as he groaned in response to her walls clenching around him.

Paul fell atop of her in a heap, completely and totally spent. He leant most of his weight to the side careful so as not to squash her. He felt Stephanie's lips place a gentle kiss to his temple, her arms encircling his neck. A few minutes later he finally slipped from her relishing in the way she immediately curled up to his side; head pressed gently against his shoulder, hand strewn lazily across his chest, leg tangled with his. Stephanie's eyes shut at the feel of Paul's fingers absently tracing around her bare back.

If that wasn't the best thing that she'd ever felt then she'd be damned because the way his fingers traced random shapes on her back was just absolutely fucking incredible. He knew it as well, hence the reason he'd done it after every single sex session, unless he was drunk or something. Did Paul do that when he was drunk? Hell, if she knew it's not like she was in the right mind to remember if it happened either. Even if he didn't that was just fine she'd savor the moments where she was able to remember them clearly. She loved sex...well sex with Paul. He made it exciting always switched it up to, but not to where she'd be uncomfortable. He cared about her it was obvious. Most men wouldn't have the fucking heart to ask a woman if they were fine as soon as they entered 'sacred grounds' so to speak. Not her Paul, he was the perfect gentleman. Just absolutely fucking perfect. He held the car door open for her, held her hand openly in public, left the lights on for her when she was late coming from work so she wouldn't be tripping all over the damn place, listened to how her day was, etc.

Stephanie's eyes began to get heavy as she admired all the sweet aspects of Paul. He was something else, and here she was laying down with this goofy grin on her face, hopefully Paul didn't notice he'd harass her to know what she'd been thinking about. He didn't need his ego to be further stroked.

Minutes passed, and eventually he heard Stephanie's breaths even indicating that she had fallen into a deep slumber. He dropped a kiss to her forehead, "Night baby."

Later that night Stephanie stirred restlessly, unbeknownst to Paul, who lay next to her.

* * *

" _Hey, c'mon Stephy." Chris muttered drunkenly._

 _Lord bless, another fucking lap dance requested from this damn asshole. She should've left as soon as the opportunity arose, and it had but she stupidly decided to stay another 20 minutes. Now she regretted it. Not only were these asshole's hands roaming her body like she belonged to him, but he was fucking drunk. Drunk! If this wasn't the worst thing she'd been through then she didn't know what was._

 _Stephanie let out a sigh of relief watching as the clock struck 10:40. His 20 fucking minutes were up. Lord bless. She stood immediately trying her best not to sound excited as she explained that her shift was over. Just as she was about to rip the curtain open she felt his hand wrap around her mouth preventing her from letting out the scream she longed to make audible._

 _What the fuck. Stephanie don't panic. Fuck it. The panic settled deep within her gut knowing she wasn't strong enough to overpower this man. He had at least one hundred pounds on her. Her arms flailed wildly as she fought with all her strength to ease his grip over her mouth. She couldn't breathe and for a second she felt herself become light headed. The last thing she needed in this moment was to lose consciousness granting this sick fuck access to do whatever he wanted to with her temporarily sleeping corpse. She bit into his hand viciously eliciting a yelp from Chris. She made a beeline for curtain only to be yanked back by her hair. She yelped in partial pain and surprise; pain overpowering the scream. Tears brimmed her eyes at the pounding beginning to form in the back of her head. She shut her eyes tightly determined not to let this Irvine guy recognize her weakness._

 _His hand gripped her face tightly expectant of her blue orbs to meet his similar ones, "Look at me bitch!" he spat at her with pure rage. She winced, the grip on her face was only intensifying and she couldn't help but let out a whimper. He smiled sadistically drawing a laugh from the apparent weakening look on her face. She refused to open her eyes, fucking open those eyes Stephy. Her attempts at turning her head were futile as his grip tightened around her cheeks. She wouldn't open her eyes, and if she knew what was good for her then she'd fucking do so immediately. "Open your fucking eyes!" He all but growled through gritted teeth._

 _Still she refused to, and with that his aggression turned into physical- if it wasn't already- he slapped her straight across the face, a nice clapping sound reverberating around the room. She fell to the ground grasping her aching cheek in the palm of her hand. Somehow, he felt he'd imagined the faint sounds of her cries. Was she crying? No, she couldn't be crying. This woman put up a fucking hassle, there was absolutely no fucking way in hell she was crying over pulled hair and a slap to the face. A strangled sob escaped her voice as she lay on the floor. Fuck, he made her cry. Why all of a fucking sudden did he feel bad? He made her cry an innocent fucking woman who had nothing to do with him. As far as he was concerned he was here to pick up his fucking money from Frank's fucking guard dog, Andrew. He fled the room as he heard a feminine voice call for the brunette he'd jut fucking made cry._

" _Stephanie?" Stacy's voice emanated the brunette's senses. At least that was enough to scare off the fucking asshole who fucking struck her._

 _The curtain was yanked back, and Stacy's gasp was made audible..._

* * *

Stephanie shot up in bed as the sudden memory evaded her dreams. She swiped at her eyes furiously, looking over as she did so. Thank god Paul was deep sleeper and wasn't awoken by any sudden movements. Her hands ran wearily over her face, swinging her feet across the edged of the bed. She stood, finding one Paul's shirts strewn across the floor. She slipped her arms through it collecting her pack of cigarettes from the bedside table.

She had barely made it through the day and now she had to deal with the aftermath which was causing her unrest. She just wanted to fucking sleep. After all her day hadn't ended shitty, in fact today was lost on her mind as Paul made love to her. He just made everything alright. Managed to make her smile when it was the last thing on earth she wanted to do.

She lit the bud instantly, placing the stick swiftly between her lips. She let out a puff of smoke as she felt the frustrations of her dream slip away.


End file.
